Sometimes It's Best Not to Think
by writingmom
Summary: What should have happened when everyone left the room. Oneshot.


Silence fell on the room as the two stood together, unsure of what to say first. The moment had arrived. San Diego. The word hit her like a ton of bricks. Little did she know that the word "London" would soon follow and another blow would be delivered. This was it. The last nine years flashed before her in a single moment, and she was suddenly a vulnerable woman and not a steadfast Marine.

He didn't fare much better. Sure, San Diego was a surprise, but his genuine concern for her well-being kicked in and his first instinct was to be happy for her. Selfishly, he thought about all of the flight miles that would be logged. Odd, that these were the first two thoughts that entered his mind. No time to think, to dissect, to analyze. She was leaving, he was happy for her, and he would visit. Often. And then he heard it. London. 

He couldn't have been more surprised, although he hid his feelings well. He offered a trademark grin and made a lame joke as he tried to avoid making direct eye contact with her. The congratulations were offered, hands shaken, kind words exchanged and then this. Silence. The moment held more tension, more need, more desperation than the two had faced in the nine years that they'd been partners.

Spontaneity was not their forte. It never seemed to work in the past, especially when the resignation of one's job had been involved. Planned discussions had never worked either, really. Two lawyers vying for the right to word and re-word their intent was often as effective as a child trying to walk with shoe laces tied together.

Now, there was no time. The road map for the rest of their lives had been laid before them and the coordinates were nowhere near each other. At least in the past, the distance was figurative. Now it would be literal in every sense of the word. No more casual lunches. No more bumping in to one another in the hall or jokes in the elevator or even coffee in the breakroom. Suddenly the little things seemed enormous. The room seemed to swallow them up. The tall ceiling, the hard walls. The dark bookshelves. In this room many answers had been found and many questions had been asked. Perhaps none quite as important as the ones that needed to be asked in that cold, silent moment.

Normally, a mental checklist would have been in order. I reached out first. She rejected me last. I was the first to try. The fact that hourglass had been turned before they were ready meant that impulse had to take over. This was not a game anymore. They were no longer coming together in a dance of dysfunction in which both fought to lead.

The words left her mouth before she knew what was happening. "I can't." She choked out and stared hard at the edge of the table before her, hands clutching the brown trim as if she would collapse were it not there. Security. That's what he was to her. Call her weak, call her insecure. Now she didn't care. This man was her rock and the thought of a separation had shaken her to the core.

"Mac—"

"I can't, Harm. I can't." The tears were a surprise to him as much as to her.

Suddenly the need for air was taking precedence over her ability to remain upright. Her fingers left the table and she made her way to the door, but not before he reached out and grabbed her gently by the wrist.

"Not now. Don't walk out on me now." 

She gave him a look that said, "I have to. I can't breathe. I can't deal with this now." In turn he gave her a look that said, "Please. I'm begging you."

Her face softened when she looked up in to his eyes for the first time since the words were spoken. "Harm?" She questioned. Like a naïve recruit looking to his superior for guidance in the war zone. "What—what's going to happen to—us?" The tears now fell freely. The sight of her broken, afraid before him was enough to break his heart into a million more tiny pieces. He pulled her close and she broke down in his arms. For the first time in nine years, she let it all out. Her childhood. Her broken relationships. Endometriosis. It all came out in the form of salty tears that cared little for the ornaments beneath them that they dampened. He pulled her closer, resting the top of his head on hers.

"Shhh. It's alright, Sarah. It's alright." He held her tightly in his arms as if she might suddenly realize that she had somewhere else to go.

"How? How can you say that?" She finally breathed as she slowly began to gain composure. "Harm, it's been nine years. I thought—I guess I just thought—"

"That we would get it together someday?" He tried to smile. She nodded, her brown eyes still pleading for direction, for an answer to this equation that made no sense in her mind.

"Mac," he began as he cupped her face, wiping the remaining tears away with his thumb. "I don't want to lose you." 

A wave of relief washed over her. In that moment she realized that much of her fear was based on the possibility that he might not feel the same; that he might welcome the change in scenery and might even welcome the distance from her. Perhaps she had pushed him away one too many times.

"I can't—I can't lose you." She smiled a sad smile, still searching for direction, for affirmation.

"You won't." A slow smile spread across his face as the realization hit him as well. They were together. In that very moment, the decision had been made; without arguments, long, drawn out discussions or missed cues, the step had been taken and he couldn't have been more relieved. His smile broadened to match the one now on her tear-stained face.

"What do you think is going on in there?" Bud whispered to Sturgis from his desk.

"Who, them?" He nodded his head in the direction of the boardroom. "With any luck, there's a secret coming out that I won't have to keep anymore." He smiled and walked away from a very confused Bud Roberts.

SIX MONTHS LATER

"Well, what do we have here?" He asked as he set his briefcase down and walked over to where she stood.

"You'll have taste and see." She smiled. Leaning up to plant a welcome home kiss on his eagerly awaiting mouth.

"Mmmm…you know I like the sound of that." He smiled, returning the kiss with more passion than he could contain.

Momentarily forgetting her prized creation, she lost herself once more in his arms. His hands began to roam freely as they had done many times in the last six months. They were still hungry for each other, eager to affirm—and reaffirm—the decision that they had made to get here.

She backed in to the glass dish resting on the table behind her, and was suddenly brought back to reality. Gently pushing him away, he made yet another attempt for a kiss. Laughing, she said, "Now wait, a minute, Sailor. First you have to try this and let me know what you think. I've been working on this all day."

He studied the spoon in her hand as she held it out for him to taste. Puzzled and impatient, he decided to take a bite. 

"Mmmm." He said. "Not bad. What is it?"

She smiled and set the spoon down behind her, removing her apron all at once. "Yorkshire pudding. What else?"


End file.
